


Some things can't be healed, but most can be mended, friend

by Urdnot Wrecks (touchstone2015)



Category: The Technomancer (Video Game)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 19:03:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9251681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/touchstone2015/pseuds/Urdnot%20Wrecks
Summary: Zach wakes up to find Andrew crying.Warning: this fic contains descriptions of non-consensual sex.Avoid reading it if you find this subject matter disturbing.





	

It's just before dawn.  
You've not opened your eyes yet, but after so many years of early rising in military and technomancer life, you don't need to; you know the time.

In your sleepy state, it takes you a moment to realise that Andrew's not there.

You'd gone to sleep, as you always do, in a lovers' embrace; lying on your back with Andrew in your arms; Andrew to your right, so he can comfortably hold you with his arm. One of his legs over one of yours.  
Skin contact; warmth; comfort.

Shit. You raise your head in alarm; Andrew's in bed all right, but he's separated from you, turned away with his back towards you. He's making a quiet sad sound.

“Andrew?”

“Sorry, it's nothing. Didn't want to disturb you.”

Like hell. You turn towards him.  
You'd like to touch him, press your body against his back, put an arm around his waist; but something stops you.  
In bed, Andrew's always so warm and supple; now the man is rigid and shaking with tension.  
He's hiding it well, but you know he's crying.

It's hard to know what to do for the best.  
So, again and again, you remind him that you're there; that he matters to you; that he doesn't have to say anything if he doesn't want to; that he can take as long as he likes before he speaks. There's no rhythm to it; it's not like a mantra or something like that; but eventually, gradually, he seems to calm down.

You know he'll talk when he's ready.  
After an age, he clears his throat, though he still seems to be crying.

When you try to remember what Andrew said afterwards, it went something like this. But he never spoke in such an organised way. Sometimes he'd just say one or two words, and be unable to continue. Sometimes it was if he had an important message that had to be told quickly, and he'd gabble.  
Sometimes he'd not be making any sense at all, at least not to you.

What he says seems to get worse as the tale goes on.

“You remember that merchant Marcello?  
The one who ‘owned’ me for a decade after the technomancers kicked me out?”

“Yeah, I remember. Can't believe how he treated you like shit. He was the one who said you were, ‘Paying off your debts’. And you paid him back by slaving for him for a decade.”

“Yeah.” A very long pause. “Well I paid him back with more than that.”

Oh shit. You have a premonition of what might be coming next.  
Perhaps, somehow, you've always known.

You can feel that Andrew's having to steel himself for what comes next.

“Marcello, yeah.” Another long pause, and then he's speaking so fast it's as if time itself is running out.  
“He'd use me. It's not that he was interested in me, or in men in general: if the money was good, and we were in a city, he'd be off buying women for himself. But if we were travelling, or money was tight, he'd just use me himself.”

“I hated it, but I quickly learned not to complain. If I did, he'd twist my arm viciously behind me, fuck me raw, and remind me as he finished that I needed to remember my place. He seemed to take pleasure on those occasions in leaving me bleeding.”

“Did the same if my takings from pick-pocketing were down, too.”

“Don't know why this came back just now.  
We had such a great time last night. I just felt so good with you inside me. I felt really happy and warm and safe.”

“Suppose I thought that shit Marcello would be back to punish me for feeling good like that.”

You listen to this appalled, not knowing what to do.  
But your technomancy does: without your willing it, your shield ignites at full strength, enclosing the two of you in a magnetic cocoon.  
And then the technomancer training for spontaneous events like this kicks in:  
Focus. Take a deep breath. Imagine the energy as a ball of light at the centre of your vision. Focus on the centre of the light. Breathe in. Blow the light out a little as you breathe out, as if it were a candle. Watch it flicker. Good. Now do it again. And again. Until it's gone. Take a deep breath. Relax.

And finally the shield's gone.  
And you find that you're crying, too.  
And you finally find some words.

“Andrew. I would never have touched you like that last night if I'd realised what you'd gone through.  
There's plenty else we can do, that we do do.”

“It's never like that with you. With him it was pain and grinding, and being made to feel like I was dirt.

With you I feel safe. And I feel cared for. And I feel your strength and your hope passing into my emptiness.”

A long pause. Andrew sniffs as if he's trying to clear the tears from his nose.

“Anyway you have things to do; you always get up around this time.”

“Yeah, well I do have something really important to do this morning.  
Which is to stay with you, Andrew. Do you want to say any more?”

“Perhaps I will, but not for now.”

There's a long pause.

“Some things can't be healed, but most of them can be mended, Andrew.  
And I'm here to help you mend things in the way you want, and at the speed you want.

“How about you try and get some sleep?  
I'll stay and watch over you: if that shit Marcello appears, I'll strike him with an electric arc.”  
Andrew almost chuckles at this; at least, he makes some sort of happier sound.

“Do you want to turn over and hold me?”  
And Andrew turns, turns to the position you always sleep in, his head on your shoulder, his arm around you.  
You put your arms round him and, very gently, rock his body in your embrace.  
And your hands trace small, careful circles on his clammy skin.

And as the minutes go by, Andrew starts, very slowly, to relax. His breathing slows and establishes a rhythm, and his body settles into yours, and you finally realise that he's fallen asleep.  
All you can do is hope that it's a forgetful one.

Quite suddenly realise that you're hot.  
As Technomancers, the two of you run hot anyway, and the energy dissipated by the shield has warmed things up still more. You notice that Andrew's body is damp with sweat, too.

So, really carefully so as not to disturb your lover, you turn back the sheet that covers you both.  
It was cold when you went to sleep, but the morning air seems to kiss your skin.  
You don't want to disturb Andrew's fragile sleep with a kiss; so you simply and very gently place your lips against his damp forehead.

The two of you never use the word love.  
You're not even sure what it really is, if it exists at all.

But you look at Andrew in the soft morning light,  
the beautiful naked man you're holding in your arms,  
the strong man who is still there after all that's happened to him.  
And you know that your task in life is to be with him.  
And quite suddenly you feel your heart swell.

And then you realise that this might be what love is, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> In the game, Andrew had always seemed to me to be completely brow-beaten. Of course, he'd lost his arm, and his technomancy skills, and he'd been enslaved by a merchant for a decade. But somehow, it seemed to me that there had to be something in addition: Andrew starts the game feeling himself completely worthless.
> 
> And so this fic came to be. It's not a nice subject, and I've found it difficult to write; but it's also another fic about how much Zach loves Andrew, so I thought it might be worth posting here.


End file.
